Tuesday, 22 July 2014

Samuel 'Squish' Bigara RIP Feb 2014, dd 25th July 2014.

I feel like I am alright.
I suppose I am moving, and doing, and being?
Each night filling in my activities for the following day so that I feel in control, deciding on my meals in advance - so that I remember to eat properly. Working with focus and determination. Sometimes thinking to myself 'I must remember to enjoy these moments'...

And then it hits me - winding me. The reality. Plain to see. Gutting me. Ripping a jagged hole across my chest just below my heart. Nauseating me. Bending me. Until I feel like I'm going to snap inwardly... The reality of what has happened to my carefully laid out plans.

Some of you know, some may understand this truth: when it is your third child. So well planned and expected excitedly each month - for almost a year. Wanted and desired well before those two pink lines showed up, and the phone calls to Grannies and Grandpas began. Before that status post and it's 100+ likes, that carried so many exclamation marks, and well before the premature dusting-off of baby things...

It will take time for the absolute finality to sink in. My boy. Hands still flutter absentmindedly over a now lifeless space. Darkened eyes still flit over the glowing and growing girth of friends who announced at the same time... Trying to be pleased for them but ultimately coveting...

Hearing the quiet, sad, late night words from sisters who loved you completely. The same sister who spoke with you every day and clutched my tummy to them possessively. Hearing them say 'We were so excited to have Christmas with him this year' and 'we wanted to carry him and kiss him'...

When the missed day of arrival sails by there will be fresh tearing of heart and tearing of eyes... Because: There will be no small hands to hold, no late nights, no warm soft rounded cheeks to kiss, no new eyes, no new baby smell, no little noises and tiny movements, no new fertile mind to grow. No tantrums over car seats, no crawling, jumping or running. No grasping or holding to a wet mouth. There will be no quick hugs after a fall, no first christmas, no Mama's and Dada's, no kisses on scraped knees, no climbing of trees, no first bike and training wheels, no first girlfriend, no 18th party, no wedding day, no 'first' anything. Nothing.

Just the dreams and 'memories' of a tiny little precious and beautiful boy who stole my heart, and left his mommy too soon.

RIP Samuel 'Squish' due 25th July 2014, never forgotten.


Sandy Bigara

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